Fogbound Castaways
by Sharkeye
Summary: Welcome aboard! We thank you for sailing with us today, our first stop is the quiet town of Port Dartmouth, where... are we? The ocean is vicious and unforgiving. Who will succumb and sink to the depths? (SYOC CLOSED)
1. Prologue - A Rude Awakening

I've never liked experiencing deja vu.

The feeling that you've seen this all before, nagging and prodding at the back of your neck, your skull, expecting a reward and being granted what you already have. When your brain goes all fuzzy on you, like some crappy old CRT television, showing the faint image of a fill-in-the-blanks it's blurring over, hiding everything you'd need to actually complete the puzzle and are left with the sense that the static knows more than it's letting on. Or, y'know, I'm just paranoid. I think I've earned the right to consider otherwise by now.

In a similar vein, I get that same vibe from something being too good to be true. Not sure the proper terminology behind it, but it's out there, somewhere. Maybe. Or maybe I'm scribbling in whatever I feel like inserting into those blanks, solutions for problems that weren't there to begin with. No strings attached, except for the ones behind your back, tying you back from obtaining what you really need. Paranoid. Benefits you for the sake of benefiting you, nothing else. I thought I knew what it was like. Turns out, I really don't.

I woke up to an overwhelming brightness.

It was harsh. Light seeped in through the fully-drawn curtains covering the windows, scattering about the interior. There was a comforter covering my body. It was cozier than I would like to admit, but I got over it and shoved it aside, half of it dangling off the edge of my bed. I shifted my body to a sitting position, and took my first steps on the soft, beige carpet below that spread completely across the room. I saw that my feet were bare, which wasn't as shocking as the rest of the bedroom after taking a vague glance around it, as if it was unrecognizable to me. That I didn't belong there. I knew I wasn't intruding, or at least I didn't think I was. The CRT static again bubbled up again.

There was a closet encased inside of the wall opposite to the bed itself, and a few windows draped in silky golden blinds that I couldn't get a good look at. I didn't need to work my brain into overtime to figure out that the blinding light was burning my eyes with a relentless brutality every time I even dared to think about it. To say the least, it was powerful. Or maybe I just hadn't gone outside in a while. The proper answer must have been one of the two, but there was no way I'd get that column filled in while working in a place with such bad cable connection. Oh well.

My first destination was the bathroom. Not because I needed to really use it for anything, but because it was the first place I found myself in. Funny how that works. Besides, there was no harm in giving myself a quick once-over to make sure I was in any fit shape. When in the porcelain palace, I pulled my arms up over my head as far as they could go until cracking noises were forced out. Stretching every morning is important, after all, I think. I dunno, I'm not exactly a good role model to follow. That's a story for another day.

Once the satisfactory feeling died down, I took in the sights of the washroom. The aura of intrusion was just as strong in there as it had been in the bedroom, and as frustrating to describe. Bland? Boring? Unfamiliar? Who knows, this isn't a crossword. There was a pearl white bathtub surrounded by more windows. More beacons for the light to shine through. The toilet was behind the door to my left, and the shower a bit further back than that. I turned in the opposite direction and faced myself in the mirror.

Except, I didn't.

There was a mask. No body. Despite that, I felt my entire body shudder as an uncomfortable tension washed over me, but that couldn't be right. No body. The mask had two sides, a white left and a black right, at least from my perspective. Each side took the appearance of those dramatic theatre masks, the white resembling the smiling one, while the black was more twisted, while still keeping the visage of the frown. Fittingly, it was almost upsetting to even look at. Hell, it looked like it crawled its way out of some uncanny valley, trying so desperately to become human. Struggling in vain to become something it wasn't. But no body.

As I continued staring into the mirror, and I guess the mask in the mirror staring back at me, a strange thought entered my head. All of the windows had curtains covering them, preventing the light from entering whatever house I was in.

So what the hell was going on outside?

I tore my eyes away from the mirror and pushed open the door to the hallway. It curved around a set of stairs to the right with a wooden railing. There was another door at the end of it that I hesitated to try and open, but upon deciding that it was better to fail than to not at all, I found the brass knob wouldn't budge, which left me with only one choice.

Each step on the carpeted stairs creaked unnaturally, like the house was much older than it appeared. Upon reaching the cream-coloured tiles of what I could only assume to be the main floor, I noticed some strange details right off the bat. There were blinds covering nearly every wall, as if they were the last defence from the scorching light. To the right was nothing more than a second door, this one a bit more regal than the one upstairs I had attempted to open moments prior, figuring it'd be a last resort if I couldn't find any other way out. Without a doubt, it was the front door, but opening it would mean going outside, exposing myself to the light, and I had a suspicious feeling I wasn't supposed to do that. If I even could.

Instead, I went to the left, since it was more open anyways. There was a kitchen with an island in the middle, and a path off to the left that I felt some instinctive urge to avoid, like there was a lion waiting in the underbrush, waiting to pounce and rip me up limb from limb, except it would probably be a house cat in a cupboard at most, and I like my limbs, thank you very much. So I entered the kitchen instead. There was nothing out of the ordinary, all of the usual appliances you'd see in a modern-day kitchen. A blender, a microwave, a mixer, all that jazz. I opened one of the drawers and found a couple of utensils strewn about. Something told me to reach for a steak knife first, and I did just that, holding it up to meet my eyes.

It was sharp, presumably because it was a knife, with serrated edges that were perfect for chopping up the correct servings of meat and also stabbing. "Maybe I shouldn't be playing with this thing," I muttered to myself, as it reflected an image of the mask back at me.

I froze. My eyes were completely fixated on the knife, and my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Who… who are you?" I said. I think. Fill in the blank. I couldn't. You can't write with a knife. But you can attack.

I spun around on my heel to face the mask, and the person hiding behind it. Sure enough, there was a person. A man. He towered over me, and was wearing all black. A turtleneck, long pants, dress shoes, even black hair that hid both his ears and neck. Body shape implied human. Primal instincts inferred monster. I couldn't see any trace of a proper face behind the mask, and he were holding his hands behind his back.

I was fully prepared to blindly swing at the man, but he shook his head. "No, no, I'm no enemy of yours, Matsukaze," he tutted, like he knew what I was thinking. And to be fair, it seemed so.

"Then tell me who you are!" I insisted, voice cracking slightly. "I'm the one with the weapon here! And how do you know my name?"

He chuckled like what I said was the most humourous thing he had heard all day. "Matsukaze, you stupid, stupid woman. You'll find out soon enough, I'm sure of it." Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew he was smirking behind that horrible mask. He drew his hand up from behind his back, and that was my cue to strike.

I jolted forward, letting my legs carry me towards the man, not really positive in my plan past stabbing the everloving shit out of him. But any and all confidence drained out of my body when he snapped his fingers.

I stopped. I don't know why I stopped, but I stopped. The man waved goodbye to me, and that was when the blinds lifted.

I woke to an overcast sky.

I fell out of whatever chair I was sitting in, drenched in a cold sweat, onto the grey carpet floor. My eyes were wide and beading, and my legs simply refused to work, probably because I had just betrayed them. Or, at least I think I did. There was no way in hell that was only a dream. But it was only a dream, right? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't wrap my brain around what I may or may not have dreamt.

After a short session of lying on the floor and letting all of my senses come back to me properly, I stood up on admittedly still wobbly legs. There were rows upon rows of chairs both in front of and behind me, and beside me was a window, this time uncovered. It was circular, and as I peered out of it, I noticed two things.

One was my actual reflection. Slanted graphite-coloured bangs covering the left of two icy, sunken eyes. The faded scar on my right cheek was still there, too. Everything visually seemed to be in place except for a strand of hair sticking up and out that I couldn't remember being there before. I poked at it to no avail, as it continued to stay there.

The second was what was actually outside.

Ocean. For miles on end, ocean. The cloudy sky set an ominous tone that, combined with what I may or may not have dreamt, left me uneasy, but not unfocused.

Was there anyone else on this boat?

* * *

**SUBMITTED TALENTS**

**Male x22**

**Female x21**

Model x1

Treasure Hunter x1

Gemologist x1

Recruit Division Commander x1

Military Adviser x1

Patient x1

Ballerina x1

Crime Scene Investigator x1

Bootlegger x1

Journalist x1

Fighter x1

Codebreaker x1

Phenologist x1

Dungeon Master x1

Wagashi Artist x1

Blade Thrower x1

Listener x1

Public Speaker x1

Veterinarian x1

Zookeeper x1

Stock Broker x1

Speedrunner x1

Hibari Chef x1

Cat Food Tester x1

Comic Book Artist x1

Ornithologist x1

Shinobi x1

Hitman x1

Tour Guide x1

Guitarist x1

Waiter x1

Cognitive Researcher x1

Gentleman x1

Lifeguard x1

Hero x1

Alternative Artist x1

Loan Shark x1

TV Editor x1

Marshal x1

Occultist x1

Blacksmith x1


	2. Prologue - Now, For Something Different

_I was tired of running. No matter how many times I paused and turned, the creature was always close on my tail, with its hulking figure and imposing aura surrounding it. Needing to catch my breath, I took shelter under one of the forest's pine trees._

_I turned my gaze up to the sky, foreboding clouds billowing overhead as-_

No, that's not right.

_The sky was coated a black as deep as charcoal as it-_

Mmph, not that either.

_As I looked around my surroundings, and then into the void beyond, I realized-_

The battery died.

Crap.

I looked up from the black screen of my laptop, allowing myself to return to the reality I had been so keen on attempting and failing to ignore. The coffee shop was about as casual as you could get, with others staring at whatever was on their devices themselves, and the baristas hard at work behind the counter. There was a pervasively warm air in the café that might have been coming from my forgotten mocha sitting beside my silver laptop, but I like to think otherwise. It was rather hospitable, especially since I had come to be recognized as a regular.

There were a number of spruce wood tables with dark oak chairs strewn about the establishment, my personal hideaway being located in the corner opposite of the door. It gave a great view of the bustling main street outside, as people not only came and left the shop, but went about their daily commute as normal. I felt safe here, as I could be left to my lonesome should I feel it, or sociable, since the workers were so familiar with my presence in the establishment.

"Hey, Koro! You, uhh… oh, I was gonna offer you another coffee, but it seems like you've barely touched that one!"

And then there was Shizumi. If there was anyone I would trust my life to, even though I doubted she was capable of even hurting a fly, it was her. She sat down in the chair across from me, two cups of what I could only assume to be coffee in hand, and placed them down in front of her.

Shizumi and I had been friends for longer than either of us could remember. If you sat me down and asked me to, I could pick out her vibrant smile and warm orange hair from any crowd, no matter how massive. And even though for a while we had began drifting apart, due to my career taking off and her starting a new job herself, we had been reunited by fate once again months later when I learned she had been scouted as the Ultimate Barista.

"Yeah, Shizumi, I was just too caught up in trying to finish this scene is all. I've been stuck on it for well over a week now, and my notes aren't really guiding me anywhere," I told her, finally thinking to pick up the mug. The mocha inside was cold, but that was solely on my hands, yet despite this, it was still as rich a flavour as ever.

She pouted, putting her finger to her chin. "Is that so? Sorry I can't really be of much help," Shizumi laughed sheepishly, "but, if you want, I can read what you've got so far for you, Koro!"

I shook my head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a bit of a stickler for keeping my work a secret until it's ready, you know? I want you to experience the entire thing with a fresh mind, not know the entire plot by page 1. Beside, my computer died."

I averted my sight from Shizumi to my own reflection in the monitor. I had read online that some fans were attracted to my shaggy, dirt brown hair and pale green eyes, but with them looking back at me, I didn't quite understand where they were coming from. Not to mention how weird that really is, but it's not like I can stop them or anything. To each their own, I suppose.

"That's a shame, Koro," Shizumi said in understanding after taking a short swig of coffee.

"I'll get over it eventually. Writer's block can be chipped away at, after all," I replied. "Oh, speaking of, do you know what time it is? I need to be back at school by noon, I got a call back from one of the publishers I sent In The Trees to, and they said they loved it and wanted to discuss possibly getting it printed and onto shelves. They said they'd call at noon, and I left my phone in my dorm, and I really can't be late for this."

Her eyes widened in excitement. "That's amazing, Koro! This is great news, I'm so happy for you!" she stood up suddenly, nearly knocking over the cups after bumping lightly into the table.

I rubbed the back of my neck in embarrassment. "Oh, it's nothing, really. I'm more surprised someone reached out to me about it so quickly."

"That's because you're an incredible author. It wouldn't be your Ultimate talent if you weren't, you know," she argued back, calming down and lowering back onto her chair. She seemed deadset on supporting me, and I couldn't deny that her purely optimistic personality had been rubbing off on me lately, it still felt like I hadn't earned it yet.

"I mean, I only really wrote short stories before this, aside from journalism. Not really my cup of tea, unless editor Noburo gave good word about to the publishers? I dunno," I shrugged, closing my laptop and sliding it into the carrying case sitting beside my seat. "So, the time?"

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, you should go, Koro, it's 11:30," Shizumi exclaimed as I stood up, straightening out my dark grey dress shirt and slung the strap of the case over my shoulder. "Call me when it's done, I wanna know all the details!" she pumped her fist, careless of whether or not she'd take out the coffee on the ascent.

"I will!" I called back as I entered the busy street. "Talk to you later, Shizumi!"

"You too, Koro!"

It all felt surreal. Only at age seventeen, and prospects were high for having my first proper novel hit the shelves in the coming weeks, and yet I was still regarded as the Ultimate Horror Author. I couldn't even tell you what it is about the genre that attracted me to it, but the fact that it all turned out well was too good to be true. I didn't even feel like I was someone special among the people making their way down the street, but that I was simply Koromichi Takamoto, some budding writer who found success after a brief journalism stint. I could still tell you the exact details of what the article was about, but as I was excitedly walking down the street, too many things were racing through my mind to pin one topic down pat.

So life decided to do it for me.

I stopped. I don't know why I stopped, but I stopped. There was a distinct chill running down my neck, seemingly out of nowhere. You know humans have the innate ability to know when they're being watched? It was originally developed to protect early hunters from being jumped by dangerous animals. It seems like some traditions never die.

I turned my neck to the stores across the street. Everything seemed to be in place, nothing out of the ordinary, until I saw it. It? Him. It.

There was a man, or at least what I could only assume to be a man. He seemed to tower over everyone around him, and yet no one was even acknowledging his existence. He was cloaked in all black, except for some mask covering his face. I couldn't make out exactly what it was trying to be, but human it was not. He was not. Was he? I tried to ignore this, chalking him up to some random fan recognizing me in the broad daylight. It wouldn't have been hard for him to see me, either, his height would've made sure of that.

I resumed my initial path back to the school, but the dread still loomed inside of me. I took a quick glance back where he was standing, and he was gone.

He was gone?

No, no, I must just be stressed, and seeing things. Because those conclusions always work well in fiction.

So I did a full 180, turning around to satiate my anxieties, but instead I was greeted with the sight of him behind me. A ways back, yes, but behind me. The corrupted appearance of the mask was in better view, white on one side and black on the other. He tilted his head, but his expression was obscured behind the mask.

I turned around for the second time, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, and kept my head to the ground, hoping and praying the unsettling man would lose interest, but I knew I was still being followed.

Making a snap decision, I decided to try and lose him by averting my path into an alleyway between two stores I had never been in, and then behind the one to my right. While it may not have been the most reliable of locations to cower in fear in, not to mention smelling awful, the ground littered with trash and cigarette butts, it was my only hope for losing the man.

So, solve this predicament, if you feel up to the challenge. If you're trying to desperately evade a predator you know nothing about, how do you? I've come up blank on solutions while writing, and standing at the back of that building, gazing up at a literal giant of a person, I realized I would never get the opportunity to.

"I don't understand why you're trying to escape, Takamoto," a voice said, presumably coming from him. He wasn't moving, though. His body was completely stationary. He did nothing but stand over me, staring down at me, like I was his plaything.

I took a step on shaky feet back. "Who are you?" I asked, or at least I think I asked. My voice could've gotten caught in my throat for all I know.

"Do you want my name?" he asked, moving ever so slightly, his hands finding themselves behind his back. "I suppose I could share it with you, though, I doubt you'd know it, Takamoto."

My heart rate slowed down, but only getting more powerful, as if it was trying to bust out of my chest and begin running away on its own. I was waiting with unconsciously halted breath for him to say something, anything, but instead he shook his head.

"Although, perhaps not; it may be too early. There is another you may be acquainted with, however. Why don't you meet her?"

And then I blacked out.

I continued to be blacked out.

Even when I was awake, I was blacked out.

So, instead, I pushed forward and came tumbling out of a closet.

Mops, brooms, and a bucket fell down with me, onto a floor I didn't recognize. Pushing myself off of the ground and dusting myself off, since who knows what those supplies were used for last, I found I wasn't familiar with the scenery around me either. There were rows of chairs, all with a sea blue fake leather fabric covering them, and a number of windows showing a dreary, cloudy sky.

Most interestingly of all, however, was another person, standing in one of the rows further back, in front of a window. However, instead of actually peering through it, she was staring at me with death in her eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?" she yelled, unmoving from her reactionary fearful stance. Of everything I noticed about her, her long and oddly-coloured hair, caught my attention first, and how her eyes were a sullen and cold blue.

I looked down at myself, making sure everything was still in place, which, aside from my now-missing computer case, it seemed to be. "I'm Koromichi Takamoto," I said, apprehensively, like it was a question, rather than a statement. "Who're you?"

She seemed to loosen up a bit, exciting her row to meet me in the aisle. More details about her came into view, like her being a few inches taller than I was, and more superficial, like a small cut on her cheek, and how she was barefoot. Her clothes were awfully strange too, a light grey tank top and a pair of orange pants with a seemingly matching jacket that she slipped off and began tying around her waist. It almost looked like a jumpsuit.

"You don't seem like a bad guy, whatever you said your name was. And I guess this answers my question about others being on this boat. I'm Rei Matsukaze," she spoke, not actually looking at me, too occupied with the knot.

"Nice to meet you, Rei," I said. "Say, do you know what an Ultimate is?"

That question seemed to have surprised her. Luckily, she finished fiddling with the jacket, so that gave her ample opportunity to meet my eyes in disbelief. "Y-yeah? Are you one?"

"I am, yeah. Ultimate Horror Author. You?"

"Ultimate Marksman."

That single sentence reminded me of something awfully familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what. Figuring I wouldn't be able to dig an answer out of my brain within a reasonable timeframe, I was about to change the subject before Rei did it for me.

"You said your name's Koromichi? That's kinda stupid," she pointed out, returning her focus briefly to tighten the knot.

I shrugged. "I make it work. My parents wanted to be creative, so they more or less slapped some kanji together, and here we are."

"Are you sure about that? I just called it stupid."

"Hey, I never said it wasn't myself. Besides, yours is Rei, and that… uhh…" I found myself lost for words. "Man, I'm drawing blanks."

Rei planted her hands on her hips. "Rei of sunshine? Some author you are. Anyways, I'm leaving. You can come with me if you want, I don't mind," she stated, flatly, beginning to walk away from me.

I only reacted a second later. "No, wait, hold on! Where are you going?" I ran up beside her.

"If you're on this boat too, then there's gotta be others, right?" she explained her thought process, still not bothering to look at me.

"I… guess. Can't hurt to check?" I decided, agreeing with her viewpoint.

And get to investigating, we did.

* * *

Don't have much to say. I'll reveal the accepted characters list when it's finalized, which it's actually close to being. Whoops. I'll keep submissions open for another week, don't think it'll really matter too much though.


	3. Official Cast List

fuck™

just a few quick words before presenting the cast list, unless you don't care in which case it's like 4 AM i don't blame you and you can probably see the list anyways, i doubt it's that far down your screen, but ANYWAYS

first off, thank you to everyone who submitted! while not every submission was exactly great, a pretty overwhelming majority of them were really good and honestly a pain to cut down to a proper cast size. bb and tobi can vouch for me on this one. the key is pikmin music.

second, i'm sorry it took this long to get this out here to begin with? i've been in an obnoxiously long slump from writing and it's taken a toll on, among other things, this as well, but fortunately/unfortunately (depending on your opinion) i'm not dead. this will not die. we are legion. cults.

third, there are no codes. don't bother looking.

without further ado, your poor, poor children

* * *

**FEMALES**

Rei Matsukaze - Ultimate Marksman (me)

Vivian Fawkes - Ultimate Patient (Barbacar)

Arara Inagaki - Ultimate Stock Investor (SanityRequiem)

Mikuru Kubota - Ultimate Speedrunner (Lupus Overkill)

Lilith Mary Tudor - Ultimate Comic Book Author (tobi-is-an-artist-too)

Mishelle Vela - Ultimate Ornithologist (irwegwert)

Noa Hatsuyuki - Ultimate Guitarist (mayurie)

Matomi Zekkai - Ultimate TV Editor (thefinalpamofficial)

**MALES**

Koromichi Takamoto - Ultimate Horror Author (me again)

Hakaru Kitanai - Ultimate Crime Scene Investigator (PainX65)

Mochiko Matchamisu - Ultimate Wagashi Artist (Prince PokePersona)

Dmitri Rudov - Ultimate Veterinarian (Ziggymia123)

Daiten Furuya - Ultimate Hibari Chef (RioA)

Jion Takara - Ultimate Blacksmith (Crimson Spider Lily)

Ali Abbasi - Ultimate Tour Guide (Abitat Eco)

Tsuyoshi Ozu - Ultimate Loan Shark (Orlando Butler)


	4. Prologue - Intro: Stranger Danger

I'm not particularly good with other people. Never have been, probably never will be, unless I force a smile onto my face and bear interaction with others. It's not exactly that I'm bad in social situations, but more that I don't really know what to say after the traditional stock questions and responses have run themselves dry, and our own personal interest is shown for what it is, not much more than an act to get us out of there after long enough. Feign interest, ask your questions, compliment "how tall they've grown" where applicable, hug is optional assuming you know the receiving party, rinse, repeat, die inside. Real simple. Real effective. Real awkward. Don't get me started on new faces, either, because then you've gotta break the ice, and that can be hard when the boat you're stranded on isn't exactly built to take you through the Northwest Passage, and just like the Northwest Passage, Canadians are the only people who know what they're doing in this situation. Or maybe I'm making comparisons to dumb shit in order to make my metaphor work. Who knows? If I didn't say that, I probably would've made a reference to some comedy sketch I saw once where the guy suggested to end a conversation by unbreaking the ice, by peppering in a little "death waits for us all" as you walk away from your new friend. Or maybe Canadians are the ones that put us here to begin with. Never did trust them.

Basically, having Takamoto breathing down my neck for all of the five minutes we had been exploring wasn't what I would call a very enjoyable experience, which was impressive considering I was taller than him by a significant margin. We more or less explored in silence, coming across nothing but a set of stairs that took us down to what I so eloquently worded as "some fucking parking garage." The exact scope of the ferry we were on was really put into perspective here, as its size let us know it was a normal-sized ferry and that I expected nothing and was still disappointed. Nonetheless, it was still a parking garage, a long paved tube of a pathway down to a light coming from outside on both ends, the two of us being about in the middle. The ceiling arched over us, a light grey with a few light fixtures embedded inside of it. There was even a white van a good thirty feet away, probably just for extra detail, but I figured it would be beneficial to check anyways.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Takamoto caught me as I was fiddling with the van's shotgun side handles, seeing if it was unlocked. "Do you really think you should be messing with stuff you don't know anything about?"

I looked over at him, not letting go of the sedan. "Think about our situation real quick, and then ask me that again." I jiggled the handle, and as expected, the door wouldn't budge, letting me know to move on down the line.

"I mean, I suppose you're right, but I don't know how I feel about messing with other people's stuff. Is it really worth trying to break into someone's vehicle like this?"

I inhaled, closed my eyes, and let out a sharp breath.

"…Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"But what if it really is someone else's property? That's breaking and entering, y'know," he said, brow furrowed, as he came closer to me and the van. I had looped around to the other side by then.

"This is all just a hunch, but I highly doubt an ominous fuckin' vehicle like this is gonna end up belonging to some rando who just coincidentally happened to be on this boat with us," I explained my rationality while tugging on the door, peering over the top of the van at him. "I dunno about you, but I haven't seen anyone else yet, so maybe just let me do what I wanna do how I wanna do it, yeah? This is a boat, not Shibuya or some shit, we would've seen someone else by now."

"We've only been looking for, what, five minutes?" His voice cracked.

I moved to the last door. "If they exist, whatever they're doing is all well and good, but I really just wanna go home, I'll be honest-" I cut myself off as, after trial-and-erroring every other viable option, the driver's side door opened up, to my surprise and Takamoto's terror as he ran over to join me. When I leaned inside, I realized that looking through the windows didn't do it justice; it was basically untouched, pristine, like whoever brought it here intended it solely to be a prop, and might not have even driven it. The leather had no wear, the dashboard and flooring were all spotless, it was basically the perfect escape car. Shame we were still on the ocean.

There was, however, one thing that caught my eye. Takamoto's too, apparently, since he seemed just as apprehensively intrigued as I was careless and apathetic when I removed the white strip of paper that was sitting face-down on the seat.

In sloppy, scribbled text, it read something.

_the show must go on_

"What the fuck is this?" I asked in exclamation, extending my arms. "That's vague and ominous. Doubt it even means anything."

"The show must go on?" Takamoto repeated beside me. "I don't… I don't like this, Rei. That's gotta mean something. Creepy notes always mean something, right?"

I shoved the slip into my pocket as he anxiously fidgeted with his tie, carelessly balling the paper up. "Yeah, it means the show must go on, duh," I said, a bit more mockingly than intended. "I don't think there's anything else in here, so we should probably head back upstairs, yeah?"

He said nothing, nodding in agreement instead, following even closer behind me than he had been beforehand while we climbed back up the stairwell. Though not entirely scary, more uncomfortable than anything, mostly due to Koromichi being Koromichi at that particular moment, the entire situation did seem a bit weird to me, I'll be honest. Well, obviously it was weird. We were on a boat. I didn't ask for this. Neither did he, clearly.

Little bitch.

No, that's rude. I shouldn't be thinking that way. Fear is a reasonable reaction to what is essentially a kidnapping, even though fear is pretty fucking stupid if you ask me. Fight or flight? Be a Hawlucha, who cares. Do both. Drive-by, maybe with the van back downstairs. Beat the shit out of the captain of the boat. Takamoto wouldn't do that, and that's fair. I've known him for all of ten minutes, I know how these things work. But it still seemed weird to me. He said he was a horror author, right? That he authors horror? Shouldn't he be used to this stuff?

Turns out he was wondering about me too.

"Hey, Rei?" he spoke up after we had reached the top of the stairs again. "Can I ask you something?"

I turned to him, my gaze meeting his a bit further down. "Well, it's impeding our search, and you technically already have, but, uhh, sure, shoot."

"Actually," he laughed, sheepishly, indicating nothing good was gonna come from the question being asked, "it's about that."

"You stopping our exploration?" I crossed my arms and raised my brow simultaneously. "Better not be pulling some shit on me, Takamoto."

His eyes widened. "No, no, it's not that! Not at all! You said, umm… you said "shoot", and I know that's a responsive statement letting me know it's okay to ask what I wanted to, but I wanted to know if, uhh-"

"Oh, for the love of god, Takamoto, get to the point already, you're dragging out the word count."

"Look," he started, seemingly reaffirming himself, rubbing his forehead, "you said your talent was marksman, and I was thinking about with how you're dressed, it just clicked in my head that… I just wanna know what 'marksman' actually entails, Rei. You're not afraid of the situation at hand, and I know I'm not exactly a beacon of confidence, but I'm just weary is all."

It was at that point my thought process came to a grinding halt. I could feel my expression melt from one of apathy to a sheer blank slate, and I'm not really sure why it did that. Maybe it was the suddenness of it all, or it might have been that one unreasonably sadistic little part of my brain wanted to drive my fist through his face and out the back of his skull, but I mostly just stood there and let it all sink in.

"Y-you don't have to answer if you don't want to, Rei, it's fine," he drew back, clearly scared of the outcome, but still catching on to the grip I was slowly losing. "I was just curious is all."

I blinked and shook my head. "I… I have good aim. Th-that's all. I don't wanna talk about it, oka-"

"Hello? Is someone there?"

Takamoto joined me in having frozen where he stood.

"We know you're there, no sense in hiding from us," they called out again. The voice was male, deeper than Takamoto's, but I was so preoccupied in the fact that we weren't alone that I barely even noticed Takamoto clutching his chest. So much for being a master of horror.

I grabbed his other arm and dragged him forward, towards the bow of the ship. The windowed walls curved forward, showing off the murky, grey waters and the identically coloured sky, as well as a few more rows of off-green, chairs but what was more important was the _people._

People.

Other humans.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

As Takamoto brought himself back to reality, I took the time to look the two over. The man stood beside a younger girl, fairly taller than her, contrasting each other in an almost yin and yang scenario. He looked somewhat annoyed with the fact that I was sizing him up, really. Shaggy, brown hair and sky blue eyes under furrowed brows combined with a dress shirt and rolled-up sleeves made him look almost too much like an antagonistic version of Takamoto. His evil twin or something. I forced the laughter at that thought to stifle, since he probably would've tried to fight me if he knew I was laughing at him. I'll throw hands. Square up.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or…?" he chided, prompting me to approach, like a campy Puff main and I was playing Pikachu. No one's gonna get that joke.

"Calm down, Hakaru, just give them time," the girl beside him mumbled, yawning mid-sentence. "And if you don't, I've got an IV stand and I'm not afraid to use it." And, for what it was worth, she was justified in it, as if I had any reason to deny it. She was horribly pale, visibly using it to keep herself standing, and wearing a hospital gown at that, covered in small, teal dots. Long black hair under a sleeping cap of the same colour only helped to point out her reddened eyes and white slippers. Basically, either her drip was getting her high or she needed to go the fuck to sleep.

I blinked, bringing myself out of analyzing mode. "She said your name was Hakaru?"

Supposedly-Hakaru rolled his eyes. "You don't know me? God, some people," he muttered indignantly, extending his hand. I shook it, coming into contact with the cold metal of rings on a few of his fingers, accentuating the slight hint of regret for deciding to interact with him ever so slightly more. "I'm Hakaru Kitanai, the world-famous Ultimate Crime Scene Investigator, though I guess you're too stupid to recognize that, hmm?"

* * *

**Hakaru Kitanai**

**Ultimate Crime Scene Investigator**

* * *

"You must be fun at parties," I snarked, to which he scoffed in clear disappointment. I wiped my hand down the side of my pants.

Takamoto sighed, kneading at his forehead again. "I'm sorry, Hakaru, Rei is just like this," he said, not looking at me. "I'm Koromichi Takamoto, by the way. Ultimate Horror Author. And, for what it's worth, I've heard of you."

Kitanai's expression lightened up immediately. "Finally, someone with taste…"

"And I'm Rei Matsukaze," I cut in, not exactly as interested in saving face as I was getting out of there. "Marksman."

"It's nice to meet you, Rei," the girl leaning on the IV stand spoke up, her grey eyes peering up at me. "I apologize for Hakaru, he is also 'like this.' We woke up here together, too, presumably the same way as you and Koromichi here. And my name is Vivian Fawkes, I'm the Ultimate Patient."

* * *

**Vivian Fawkes**

**Ultimate Patient**

* * *

"Patient? That why you got an IV drip?" I asked her, figuring she'd be a better source of information than Kitanai.

"Yes, it's pretty self-explanatory," she laughed to herself, followed by a brief coughing fit. "But I'm fine. Just a bit sick is all. It's nothing, except it's a lot, and when I say I'm a bit sick, I mean it's a miracle I'm not dead."

I nodded with a somewhat confused understanding. "Figures you wouldn't go with a handshake like Kitanai, then."

"You're catching on faster than he did…"

I scratched the back of my neck, moving my hand under my slate grey hair. "Had a feeling. Oh, uhh, have you two found anyone else around here? Takamoto and I basically got nowhere about it, bar you two, so this is kinda a lucky break."

"Yes, yes, there are others up on the top deck," she explained, with Takamoto and Kitanai turning to join our conversation, presumably after hearing their names. Not very complex. "You should probably go meet up with them…"

"Thanks, Fawkes." I turned tail towards the port side of the boat and waved my hand, "C'mon, Takamoto, lets get going."

Dead air. Like the moment between firing and hitting your target, apprehension was killer. It was almost awkward, really. I had stopped moving when I realized he wasn't following, instead keeping behind with Kitanai and Fawkes.

"Takamoto? You good?"

"Rei," he choked out, "I… I think I-I'm gonna stay here. Please don't be upset, alright?"

"Huh? Why? And why would I be upset?" I placed my hand on my hip.

He came forward, closer, probably just to close the gap for the sake of not reigniting the face-punching aura I had shown him earlier. "Because, you… you scare me, Rei, alright? I'm just throwing it out there, you scare me, especially with earlier and your refusal to go into detail, and contrary to popular belief, I'm not really good with fear. No hard feelings, it's just… I dunno." He was holding his hands up by now.

I wasn't really sure how to respond. No ill will was showing itself, and for good reason. In hindsight, I wasn't exactly great towards him. Amazing how people can shift their opinions towards you in a mere twenty-five hundred words. But still, I more or less just shrugged it off, growing increasingly more uncomfortable as I stood there. "I… umm, al… alright? I guess I can't dictate what you do…?"

If silence could kill, Fawkes would have dropped dead for multiple reasons right then and there. Impulse won over, convincing my legs to turn back and keep going the way I was, and faster than I should admit. You know those scenarios that you lie awake in bed, your brain replaying over and over in a desperate attempt to remind you how badly you fucked up? That was certainly the newest instalment. Every step I took to the top deck was more confident than the last as I regained my composure, coming out to exactly what I had expected.

It was as shitty outside as it looked. Wind was barely blowing, wasn't raining, and it wasn't even cold. Just shitty nonetheless. Might've been my irritated attitude leaking into perception, like some d20 roll I failed on purpose, but I stand by it. I leaned over the bar to stare down at the frothy whitewater the boat had been generating. Jumping in was tempting. I already prefaced that I'm bad with other people, why not share my other thoughts too?

I stepped back and drew a deep breath, concentrating. Fawkes said there were others up here. Probably up front. Lets not fuck this one up.

The walk was short, but assuring. I needed the breather was all. There were, in fact, more people strewn about the metal benches. Two were talking with each other, one was sprawled out, lying down with her legs kicked up, and a young boy was standing by the edge, possibly on watch.

"Hey," I called out to the small group, followed by quickly clearing my throat, "are you guys Ultimates too?"

The small boy noticed me first, running over to me, loudly stomping along the way. He was scrawny, with a darker complexion and uneven brown hair to match, smiling wide, and his eye wider, like a puppy who doesn't understand the concept of time, or fashion, given that he was wearing a long, grey coat with a beige faux-fur hood under a blue t-shirt, khaki shorts, and a motherfucking eye patch.

'Eye' wasn't a typo.

Like, Jesus. I know we're on a boat but you're not a pirate. I'm expecting Johnny Depp to show up at this rate. Good god.

"Uhh, hey, kid, what's up?" I asked, slower than I should've, still attempting to comprehend his fashion choices. I decided to look down at myself as a reminder that I was wearing a tank top and what was basically a jumpsuit. I'm not one to talk.

"Hello, miss! It's such a nice day out, isn't it? It's good to meet you, since we haven't before! I'm Ali Abbasi, the Ultimate Tour Guide! This is awfully exciting, isn't it? Perfect scenario for an adventure, wouldn't you say?" he grabbed my hand and pulled me along, way stronger than I had expected from him.

* * *

**Ali Abbasi**

**Ultimate Tour Guide**

* * *

"Woah, kid, slow down, you're gonna hurt yourself," I interrupted right as we reached the rest of the group, shaking myself free from his abnormal grip. "Or me, for that matter. You nearly stepped on my feet."

Abbasi looked down at my bare feet, completely unaware of the fact that I had been, but for what it's worth, I had been so preoccupied with figuring out what the fuck was going on I hadn't taken much note in that detail either. Still, stomping around in boots versus the pale soles of my feet was not something I much felt like dealing with. "Oh! I'm sorry, miss, I didn't see that! I hope I didn't hurt you at all! I just love meeting new people is all, so I was excited to greet you!"

Yeah. Figured with the eye patch.

"It's fine," I reassured him, suddenly finding myself in front of the aforementioned two, still sitting on their own bench. "So, uhh…" I shoved my hands into my pockets, not really sure what to say. "I'm Rei. I'm a marksman. What's up?"

Of the duo, the girl spoke up first. Like nearly everyone else, her hair was dark brown but pulled up into a ponytail, call it variety. Her skin tone was similar to Abbasi's, although her clothes were much more manageable, also known as not insane, in just a white shirt with grey stripes, a long blue skirt and a jean jacket. She gazed up at me, dull meeting ice.

"Rei, was it? Are you familiar with the black-legged kittiwake?"

I blanked. "Uhh… n-no? I just said I'm a marksman."

"Oh." She paused. "I thought you would've had a bit of knowledge regarding bird species, if that's your talent. Guess not. I'm Mishelle, by the way. Mishelle Vela. I'm, umm, the Ultimate Ornithologist."

* * *

**Mishelle Vela**

**Ultimate Ornithologist**

* * *

"Miss Mishelle knows a lot about birds!" Abbasi chimed back in, literally jumping when the conversation went silent, even though it had only been a few seconds. "The black-legged catawake is native to northern sea regions, like the Bering Strait and coastal areas of North America and Europe. I can tell you more about it if you want, Miss Rei. My tour is only $8!"

"It's pronounced kittiwake," Vela muttered under her breath. "But, uhh, yeah, he's right. We've been trying to pin down where we are… well, most of us. Dmitri's a veterinarian, so he had some insight, and Ali's good with geography, but that's where it kinda ends."

That was when it occurred to me that the guy beside her had said nothing the entire time. He seemed content merely listening to Abbasi shill out his business, and, frankly, he had more patience than I did. In fact, his straw blonde hair and white button-down shirt and tie, albeit one covered in dogs, made him look like, as I unconsciously put it, "inverted Takamoto."

"What did you call me?" he asked, and so calmly that it honestly kinda frightened me. I maintained my sorta-casual stance and shrugged it off as "nothing, nothing," but that point stuck ever so slightly. In fact, although I doubted he was older than me, he even had a goatee. Huh.

"Please stop staring at the goatee," he continued. I instead began to stare at the floor. "Well, I suppose if I'm being forced into speaking, I might as well introduce myself. Dmitri Rudov, Ultimate Veterinarian."

* * *

**Dmitri Rudov**

**Ultimate Veterinarian**

* * *

"Oh, cool. So, we're up north?" I questioned, since they were the only ones with any feasible answer.

"Pretty much. Can't really determine much else, since the kittiwake were the only gulls we spotted, and no other birds would be this far out," Vela explained. "Though, if you're not busy, which I doubt, considering the circumstances, and just trying to meet everyone, you, umm… might as well get to know Arara."

She pointed over at the girl, separate from their small group, who had been lying on the benches. On one hand, I didn't want to admit I was trying to ignore her, but on the other, I was trying to ignore her. From a distance, she looked intimidating. Like a sentient eggplant.

"Good luck," Rudov nearly snorted out.

I bit my lip and approached her, slowly, as if I was sneaking up on a sleeping lion that also happened to look like a bundle of grapes. Seriously, though, I don't know what the hell I was looking at. From above, she gave the impression of if someone spilled paint on the Queen of Hearts from Alice In Wonderland, and then tried to use her as a canvas and royally fucked up. She was wearing some weird-ass dress that more or less looked like a hot dog stand got in an accident, with a yellow corset and a red skirt. Just kinda hurt to look at.

"Hey, get up," I stated rather bluntly.

"Nah. You're blocking my sun," the girl lying on a fucking metal bench complained.

"It's overcast?" I stuck my hand over her head, casting a bigger shadow than I suppose she thought she had over me.

She opened them, showing a sickening yellow-brown, hatred burning behind them. "Do you have a problem?"

"Yeah, I'm interacting with you," I snarked, probably unwarranted.

No. No, I was justified.

"Wow, fucking rude," she whined, standing up. Though I was pretty sure she only matched up because of the yellow stilettos she was wearing, we matched up in height uncomfortably well, finding it her right to get up in my face and stare me down. I had crossed my arms, knowing full well that the others were watching our silent argument in full force, but my poker face easily beat out her straining, makeup-soaked attempt. "God, what the fuck are you? I could hardly focus with that nasty-ass scar, that's not fair!"

"I'm Rei. I'm a marksman. You are?"

She scoffed, adjusting the crown on her head that I hadn't seen before and definitely lost my shit at internally. "Arara Inagaki. Ultimate Stock Investor. Fuck off."

* * *

**Arara Inagaki**

**Ultimate Stock Investor**

* * *

Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me, but I think I'd rather die. Either way, I easily learned to take Inagaki's words to heart and left the scene, fully aware that the birdwatching crew was in total shock at my lack thereof. Deciding it was about time I went back inside and far away from her, I descended the stairs and found myself back on the port side of the ship. I had a feeling it was best to stay away from the bow, so I continued down the path to the stern, coming across a rather non-descript gift shop. There were a few shelves that were lined with a variety of travel objects, like blank mugs and a teddy bear that I'm pretty sure didn't have a shopping tag on it anywhere. But, most importantly, I heard people talking in the back of the store, and I rationalized that my track record with people today was so great that I should totally continue it.

"Hello?" I called out into the small shop. "Is anyone there? I'm Rei Matsukaze, Ultimate Marksman? I say that like you'd know."

There was a noisy gasp from exactly where I expected it to come from "Yeah! Hi! We're back here, hold on!" a female voice replied excitedly, quickly running out front to meet me. "Oh my god, you're so cool! You look like a vigilante! Are you a vigilante? You said marksman, right? Yeah?"

Safe to say, the girl was insane. Or at least hyperactive. Her eyes weren't dark blue, or blue, or whatever, but instead her hair was, also in a ponytail, with bangs that grazed her crazy eyes. Not crazy, just gold. Y'know, maybe. Though, the printed t-shirt with "POW!" comically written on it and a bright yellow sports coat might've argued against. It was a bit hard to tell with her.

"Umm, n-no?" I had to think my answer through and I don't know why.

"Well, it's still nice to meet'cha, Rei! I'm Lilith Mary Tudor!" she planted her fists on her hips as another girl, much calmer, I might add, came up behind her. "Ultimate Comic Book Author extraordinai- Jesus fucking Christ, Armadillo! You scared me!" Tudor jumped out of her pose and probably would've exited her skin if given the opportunity.

* * *

**Lilith Mary Tudor**

**Ultimate Comic Book Author**

* * *

"I just walked up behind you, Lilith. There's not much space for me to go," she chuckled. "Anyways. Hi."

I took a short moment to wrap my head around the display of whatever-the-fuck-that-was.

"...Hey."

The other girl, apparently named… Armadillo, as Tudor had just screamed, was largely unassuming. She had curly, thick burgundy hair and bright magenta eyes, which, while typically impossible, I'd take it over blue at this point. A purple hoodie, blue and white striped tank top, and pink skirt were mostly it, albeit with a pair of black and white headphones around her neck as well. Simple but effective, I guess.

"She spoiled the whole nickname thing already, but I'm Mikuru Kubota, the Ultimate Speedrunner. I play video games really fast. That's about it. You can call me Armadillo, by the way, because that's my screen name."

* * *

**Mikuru Kubota**

**Ultimate Speedrunner**

* * *

I scratched the back of my head, trying in vain to get a thought in, before Tudor inserted herself once again. "Yeah! Armadillo's really good at video games! Like, really good! But I asked her if she's ever run any superhero games and she said no! Can you believe that?"

I scratched a bit harder. "I guess not? And I think I'll stick with Kubota, thanks."

"That's fine," Kubota agreed, giving a patient smile. "Lilith's right though, modesty aside. I'm pretty good at video games. Do you play any, Rei?"

"Ehh, not really, no," I replied. "Used to when I was younger, but sorta fell off."

"You should! They're great!" Tudor chipped in again. I could've sworn at the rate she was going, she was gonna blow out her voice.

"Well." Kubota simply stated, definitely catching on to the fact that Tudor was rupturing my eardrums. "You're probably looking for the others, right?"

"Yeah, you kinda read my mind. Are they around here?" I asked, as if she didn't know. She reached out and pointed down the hall.

"Food court, just down there. I think me and Lilith are gonna stay here a bit longer. We'll see you if not?"

I nodded, with not much else to say. "I suppose so."

As they waved me off and resumed whatever it was they had been up to, I shoved my hands back in my pockets again. My fingers fidgeted around with the slip I had found earlier, only one thought able to stay firmly in my mind.

These people are fucking weird.

* * *

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

AAAA


	5. Prologue - Intro: Sixteen's A Crowd

Editor: tobi-is-an-artist-too

* * *

Do you know the feeling of regret? How it wells and bubbles up in the deepest recesses of your stomach, seeping into your mind and feeding off every thought of how it could've gone better if you had done X, or said Y, but you're stuck in the present and the past can only play into your future? How it makes you sick? A viral spiral, going down and down and still further down. What can you do about it? Not make the same mistake in the future? What good is foresight going to help you when you're so blinded by the past? When you can barely respond to the present as it is? You make mistakes, you learn from them, and eventually you die. Memento mori, or whatever that saying is. Sometimes that's all that can keep you going. And if you get stuck, pick up your arms and legs and carry on. No one else will.

The show must go on, after all.

I guess the moral of the story is that I regret my course of actions regarding Takamoto. I had guilt broiling then, and I still do now. And Inagaki too, I guess, but the preface of her bitchiness was appreciated, so it's not as big of an issue. In hindsight. Get used to it. But Koromichi didn't deserve the treatment that I, a complete and utter stranger, had shown him. I had a lot of time to think, after all. It feels like I've been walking down this one hallway for 247 days.

What? I've been busy. Ish.

The sky was still as bleary as it had been, and the pitch black sea was just as harsh, but I could change. Right? Hopefully. I would have to act quickly, as I was finally approaching the other end of the ship, but I could manage it. No, I _can _manage it. Of course, I've never been much of a people person, already talked about that, let alone do I qualify as an actual "person" person. But it can't hurt to try.

The cafeteria, food court, whatever you wanna call it was at the bow of the ship, as it had been explained. Observational skills are functioning at an all-time high. I really didn't catch that much of a glimpse of it before I heard some raucous noise coming from inside the kitchen, the entrance of which I had passed without realizing it. Despite the door being closed, the sound of two people arguing pushed its way under the crack and presented the opportunity to meet some… nice, new faces. If their arguing was anything to go off of.

"All I'm saying is that your technique is subpar, Matchamisu. Ultimate Wagashi Artist? You couldn't cook your way out of a pastry bag…"

"You wanna fucking go, Earrings? You think you're so pretty? I'll deck you! Square up!"

Hmm.

It was an odd scene, for sure. The kitchen was a fairly standard work kitchen, nothing terribly fancy that caught my eye. Knives were hanging up on a rack above the sink, and the reverberation of the dripping water was wholly and entirely tuned out by the angry woman in the overly vibrant green yukata, and how deep her voice was. And how powerful these vibrations must have been to be moving the cutlery along said rack.

I cleared my throat. Bad move. The rampaging woman turned around and I swear one pupil was more dilated than the other. Might've even been red. The more collected man, wearing a white dress shirt and jacket with a black hem and dress pants to match, merely gave me a side eye with a cocked eyebrow.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting… uhh… something, but I was just wondering if either of you knew what was going o-"

"Hey! Jumpsuit!" the woman, who, using my innate inferential abilities, I heard was called Matchamisu, yelled at me, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me forward. "Tell this asshole how much more technique wagashi takes than his stupid fucking hibari!"

I raised my hands in personal defense. "Woah, I'm sorry, Miss, but I-"

"Miss? Did you just call me 'Miss', Jumpsuit?" I thought I saw an artery pop in _his_ forehead.

Fuck.

"I'm a guy! I mean, for fuck's sake, it's not that hard! You're all just blah blah blah…" he kept on rambling angrily.

"Don't worry about it, lady, I made the same mistake myself," the other man added, leaning forward. He was a bit shorter than me, but he had a bit more going for him than I had myself. With the three of us being in such close proximity, I could make out every detail in his strangely calm, golden eyes, how prim and proper his clothes really were, and just how neat his entire, overall look was. Damn, bitch, save some for the rest of us. He swept his inky black hair out of his face and reached for my hand. "Daiten Furuya, Hibari Chef," he said. "It's nice to meet you, 'Jumpsuit.'"

* * *

**Daiten Furuya**

**Ultimate Hibari Chef**

* * *

I let go of Furuya's hand, a bit more at ease than I had been prior. But first, stop, Rei. Stop and think. Don't fuck this one up. Sure, the guy is a fuming ball of rage wearing a candy patterned yukata, but perhaps he could be reasoned with. Seasoned with. No, don't snicker, he'll take it as being directed at him, which will then cause him to burst into his second phase. Just take a deep breath, think about your words, and try it again.

"Matchamisu, is it? I'm sorry I assumed your gender, that was wrong of me to do, an-"

A single punch to the jaw was all it took for me to go tumbling straight down to the floor. I hit the ground with a dull thud. My head was foggy and the only thing I could hear, besides the ringing of my skull, was Furuya sucking in air through his teeth, and then a quick mention of blood from Mike Tyson's Punch-Out over there.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Matchamisu blurted out. "I didn't mean to do that… here, let me help you up." He stuck his hand down towards me, still sprawled out on the floor, mind you. I immediately swatted it away.

"I'm fine," I stated coldly, pushing myself up. This is what I get for trying to be nice, I guess. Instead, I wiped away at my nose, not even so much as flinching at the blood presenting on my hand.

He sighed, his expression rich with defeat, clearly towards himself. "I have," another one interjected itself into the sentence, "anger issues, and I sometimes take it out on people who don't… deserve it." His voice was dripping with hesitation. As if he was a massive dick. "And I'm sorry. My name is Mochiko Matchamisu, Ultimate Wagashi Artist. Mo is fine, and I guess Mochiko, but nothing else. Got it?"

* * *

**Mochiko Matchamisu**

**Ultimate Wagashi Artist**

* * *

"I think I'll stick with Matchamisu," I scolded. The man shrunk in on himself at that, accompanied by the muted noise of Furuya restraining a sneer. "So," I continued, "I'm kinda on a mission to find everyone on this damn boat, and while it's not the introduction I expected, I guess it's nice to meet you two." I had basically been choking out each word as I spoke by the end.

"Are you sure you're good? Your speech is slurring a bit there, Jumpsuit," Furuya pointed out, one hand on his hip and the other on his chin.

I shook my head in a quick, somewhat violent motion, conjoined with the totally reassuring sentence of, "I've been hit by worse," which only seemed to pique his morbid interest more. "And my name is Rei, not, uhh, "Jumpsuit." Rei Matsukaze, Ultimate Marksman."

Matchamisu was quick to start shaking his head in agreement and understanding. "Ah," he said, "I see. I have no idea who you are. Still better than Mr. Fucking Perfect Hibari over here." His words dripped with enough contempt to slather a steak, and Furuya was eating it up with a side of fries. That was a stupid analogy.

"Just ignore him, Rei, he gets pissy," he remarked as if Matchamisu was not standing a foot away from him and did not punch me mere minutes beforehand. I could already picture the dried magenta of a clean hook to the mouth coating his, well, coat. But before the mental image could form with a consistent clarity, there was a brutal knocking at the door, and another voice breaking through it.

"Hey? Hey! Are you two okay in there? I heard yelling!" the vastly more feminine voice called out. While I was too busy resetting the energy I had been exerting on attention to reality to respond to her, Matchamisu slowly scuttled in fear behind Furuya, who was growing a shit-eating grin as he moved. She slammed on the door again. "If you're not gonna say anything, I'm coming in, okay?"

As the door screeched significantly further open compared to my minute slithering in earlier, a girl distinctly unlike anyone I had seen up to that point popped up into view. Her skin was dark, somewhat akin to Abbasi, and her dark_er_ hair was pulled back into buns, which themselves were elevating a mostly nondescript white hat. She was clutching at some purse to her side, and much lighter clothes in contrast, the sweater some pale yellow colour. I could tell by the adept bewilderness plastered on her expression that I was like her in that sense. The Spanish Inquisition or whatever. "Oh. Hello," she chimed in first.

I scratched at the back of my head, hair getting caught in the tangles from the tumble. Kinda hurt, I thought to myself, and so that thought process led to the blurting out of, "You got a brush in there?"

The girl tilted her head for a brief moment. "Huh? You mean in my handbag? I do, but you've got a lot of hair there, so it might take a while, wouldn't it?"

I watched in mental agony as the buffering wheel in my brain slowly recollected the dropped frames. "What? No. Sorry, a lot's happened in the last ten minutes. Plenty of sudden blood loss. I don't need a hairbrush. I don't." The regained senses alerted me to another stifled snigger courtesy of Furuya, to whom I reflexively threw up my hand behind me. He got the message. "So," I resumed, "I'm Rei Matsukaze, Marksman. You?"

"Marksman, hmm?" she repeated, with obvious reluctance. "I… no, I don't think I know you. No matter, though. I'm Matomi Zekkai, Ultimate TV Editor. It's nice to meet you, Rei."

* * *

**Matomi Zekkai**

**Ultimate TV Editor**

* * *

"Would you know me…?" I thought out loud again. "Why would you? What?"

Matchamisu scoffed, still hiding behind Furuya. "Don't sweat it, Jumpsuit. She's done that with everyone. Probably something to do with her talent. Didn't even recognize Glasses, or Cane."

"Is that your thing, now? Referring to people by their defining feature?" Furuya retorted.

"Could call you 'Shithead.'"

"Guys," Zekkai butt in, "now really isn't the time to bicker. Can't believe we've been kidnapped and all you can do is argue like this. Here, Rei," she spoke directly to me, taking my hand, "I'll get you out of here, free of charge. Don't worry about the circus in town."

Rather forcefully, Zekkai yanked my arm and dragged me back out to the hallway, then further forward to the mess hall. It was rather well-lit, reflections from overhead lights beaming off the surprisingly spotless tables. It all came to a head at the bow, with tables lining the half-walls surrounding the area, with more seats up front. Before I could even get the words out, Zekkai responded. "There's no food aboard, Jion and I already checked."

And before I could get those words out in turn, about whoever Jion was, I took notice of the rather brooding group joined up at a far row. Zekkai took note of my struggling and finally let go of what had gradually become my wrist, letting me free to walk over and talk to them like a normal human being.

They had all been sitting, but each in a distinctly different way. The man with the pink hair, wearing what looked like a tank top and far too many earrings had his right leg up on the chair he was sitting on, corresponding arm stationary on top at the elbow, with the rest of his arm hanging aimlessly. He hardly looked up at me, giving a small smirk and a nod of acknowledgement. It was then I realized there was a scar running across his right eye. I unconsciously prodded at my cheek. "Pleasure to meet you," he grumbled, not furthering his engagement, yet maintaining the smirk.

There was a second man wearing a suit, slouched over with a cane propped against the table, seemingly catching his breath. His eyes were shut yet he was imposing from the get go, causing my view to shift out of unexpected intimidation to the girl behind him. Despite wearing a long, red skirt, she was sitting backwards in her chair, diagonally from Pinky, resting her upper body on the chair's back. Under her ash blonde hair and round glasses, a pair of stark violet eyes gave me a darting glance and a grunt, dignifying even less than her counterpart.

"Don't mind her," Zekkai explained with a wavering smile, "she's not much of a conversationalist."

Another grunt, this one a tinge annoyed. "Fine," she said without much other movement. "Noa Hatsuyuki. Guitarist." A stint of silence followed. "What? You expecting anything more?"

* * *

**Noa Hatsuyuki**

**Ultimate Guitarist**

* * *

"No, no, I'm alright with pressing for information." I pretended to ignore the bloodstain on my own tank top. "But, uhh, you?" I motioned towards the first guy. "What's your deal, Pinky?"

He seemed to enjoy the nickname, giving off a mild chuckle, then put his full observational skills onto me. "Don't ever call me that again."

I crossed my arms in retaliation. "Give me your name and I won't have to."

He let out a sigh of acceptance. "Heh. I think I like you. I'm Jion Takara, Ultimate Blacksmith. What about you, Greyhound?"

* * *

**Jion Takara**

**Ultimate Blacksmith**

* * *

"That explains the earrings," I replied. "I'm Rei Matsukaze. Marksman."

At that, the man in the suit's eyes shot open wildly, craning his neck up to look at me. The sudden action caused him to wheeze shortly into his elbow. "Matsu… Matsukaze? Rei…"

Everyone was now focused on him. His sullen brown eyes were piercing right through my own, scanning my face with every passing second. His mouth was moving but no further voice was emanating out, and I saw he had a goatee like Rudov, except his was black, along with his awfully short hair. In fact, I had gotten so caught up in the "what the fuck" that I had abruptly lost my thoughts again. "Umm… do I know you?"

After a few more seconds of deduction, he closed his eyes again and shook his head. "I must be mistaken. Pardon me, you just seemed familiar is all. Peculiar. Much ado about nothing, it seems." He reached for his cane and, with great effort, pushed himself onto his feet, completely dwarfing not only myself but Zekkai, Takara, and Hatsuyuki. He stuck out his free hand for a handshake, to which I obliged. "Tsuyoshi Ozu, Miss Matsukaze. Ultimate Loan Shark. Just call me Ozu."

* * *

**Tsuyoshi Ozu**

**Ultimate Loan Shark**

* * *

"Was planning on it," I commented, though soon being interrupted by Takara chiming in.

"Kinda surprised us, too, y'know. He's barely said a word up 'til now. Though, I suppose he hasn't exactly had'ta. We've been quiet too, bar Matomi, and the two asshats in the kitchen."

"Begs to be intriguing, Pinky," he croaked, leering a bit at the blacksmith. Takara stood up in a reactive defense but quickly understood how he was unmatched on multiple fronts, rather instead resorting to a cheap eye roll in the end.

"I said not to call me that," he silently whined, straddling the verge of pouting, though shrugging it off soon after. Zekkai got a good laugh out of that.

Quite the interesting bunch, huh? I thought so too, recounting them mentally. Kitanai and Fawkes at the stern, Vela, Rudov, Abbasi and Inagaki on top deck, Kubota and Tudor in the gift shop, Matchamisu and Furuya in the kitchen, and Zekkai, Hatsuyuki, Takara and Ozu, at the bow. Plus Takamoto, and myself. That made sixteen in all, eight males and eight females. Oddly even. Evenly odd. Weird.

"Is that everyone?" I said out loud, yet again.

A sudden voice coming from seemingly everywhere blared out across the boat. "_Right you are, Matsukaze! You've met everyone! Congratu-fucking-lations, you're like a celebrity now. Isn't that exciting? But Jesus backflipping Christ, couldn't you have been at least a little faster? Some people have lives here! Who deigned you protagonist, anyway?"_

"Wh… what was that? Rei? What was that?" Zekkai spat out, clearly not prepared for the unpreparable. "Can it hear us?"

"_Can it hear us, what kinda question is that, Zekkai? Of course I can hear you! I can see you, too, and smell if I try really hard. You're an idiot, you know that? All of you, really. Hanging about in abstract groups instead of grouping up together? Making this so much easier on yourselves? One of you had to ask if you were done, for crying out loud. Yes, you're done. It's over. The S.S. Dipshit's gonna be docking soon, too, so land ho, dumbasses. Get off my boat. Or don't, if you don't value your lives._

_But, please, do keep in mind, that the show must go on."_

A loud crashing sound from the kitchen did absolutely no favours in alleviating any semblance, any hint of the tingling running down my spine and out the front window of the ship and drowning under the wake the boat had been creating. For someone constantly composed, Furuya had made a mad dash for our ragtag group, Matchamisu trailing close behind. "What the fuck was that?" the latter cried.

"I don't know, but let's not get ahead of ourselves," Ozu mused, yet playing it off as a general statement. "If we all panic, that's likely what that man wants. He mentioned our lives are at stake, correct? For now, we should play along with his goals, see what he has in mind. We're not in much state to fight back."

Furuya's prior grin had been wiped clean. "Oh, look who's talking now. But," he interjected his own statement, taking a massive breath, "he is right. We should play it carefully for now. Perhaps meeting up at the docking point is the correct move here?" His point had been only backed up further by the crystal clear image of a ferry terminal softly drifting into view from the window.

"Well," Hatsuyuki added, "I suppose that's our cue."

It didn't take long for our modest group to locate the entryway that had been connected to the terminal port, considering it had a long-ass, monotone grey hallway extending out from it where it had definitely not been there before. Tipped us off pretty well.

"Should we… go in?" Zekkai suggested, hesitantly, clutching her bag tighter.

I shook my head. "Nah, should probably wait for the others, seeing as they're in the same boat as us." That wasn't funny.

"That wasn't funny," Zekkai retorted.

As if on cue, another voice cut through the dread, but this was a welcome change of pace from prior. "It's fine, we're here." Takamoto meagerly announced their arrival, barely keeping pace over Kitanai and Inagaki. One of which was not happy to see me.

"You!" she roared, charging over at me like a steaming bull that particularly hated muted greys and blues. "What the fuck did you do, you freak? That voice was talking to you, wasn't it? What the hell is up with you?"

"Nice to see you too, Inagaki."

Before she could continue her tirade, Kubota stepped in, pushing her aside. "Woah, woah, now really isn't the time to cause conflict, Arara. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about any of this too, but devolving into a screaming match won't get us anywhere but killed, right? If that voice is to be believed, anyway." There was a resigned agreement amongst the small crowd, with the overwhelming consensus being we had to investigate.

A lightbulb flickered over my head as I spoke. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll lead, okay?" I reassured both the stock investor and the speedrunner. Kubota moved aside willingly, while Inagaki made a small spectacle of it, throwing her hands in the air and everything.

My bare feet resonated heavily against the cold pathway, reverberating and catching every additional footstep made behind me. Instead of just one wary horror author looming behind me, it had evolved into fifteen full-fledged Ultimate students, and myself, the dauntless leader who had nothing to fear except everything that was fucking happening. I'm convinced my lack of layers caused my body to slow down in response to the cold.

The building at the end was certainly a breath of fresh air. The taste of saltwater unwillingly entered my lungs, but it was fine, since that initial breath was the only one I had been able to take. It was large, with a glass encasement leading down a sloped path. I saw a brochure deck near the exit to the main building, an intriguing fountain to the left outside the window on what looked to be a pier, and right in the centre was exactly what I wanted to avoid.

He was imposing. Still. Some things never change. There was a mask, and there was a person. A man. He towered over all of us, and was wearing all black. A turtleneck, long pants, dress shoes, and yet he was presenting the knife front and centre, twirling it around his impossibly long fingers. He feigned a shocked expression with no expression behind it. Just a mask.

"Oh, finally. I was starting to get bored. You sure kept me waiting, huh? But that's fine, since you're here now, and… well, you know how it goes. About the show. You found my note, hmm? Wonderful, you're all caught up on the easter eggs."

No response. Everyone was frozen.

"No? Nothing? Damn, what a shame. And I had prepared this whole argumentative speech and everything."

Impulse won out over judgment. I didn't attack him, though. I just asked.

"Who… who are you?"

"Hmm? Me? Oh, well, I suppose I'm many things. I'm the man who cornered Takamoto in that alleyway, I'm the one who hijacked Kubota's livestream, I'm the one who created Kitanai's crime scene. And I suppose that does make me your enemy, Matsukaze. Yes, yes, I'm many things, aren't I? I can be cold and calculating, or I can be jovial and content You've all experienced that first hand. However, first and foremost, though, what I really am is Furuya Miyami. And what I really am? An actor. And you'll find, what you all really are is participants in my Killing Game."

* * *

**Furuya Miyami**

**Ultimate Actor**

* * *

apologies for how fucking long this took to get out. like. seriously. all credit goes to ziggymia123 for introducing this writing group idea thing. fuck me sideways. but uhh i've basically accepted chapters are just gonna be when i get them done. could be three in a week could be two a year idrk but i'm dedicated to getting this done… eventually. i don't really know. anyways i'm gonna go pass out now i've been awake for like 30 something hours later nerds


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